Minor-ish threats
by ReeReeWithAngst
Summary: A peek at the lives of some demigods who don't pique the interest of the Camp's scribe Sir Riordan.
1. Punk Rock lullaby

**This will be my first real OC story in awhile for Camp Half Blood, which used to be really my main thing with stories like Summer with Dad and Cabin 11... This will focus on some of the children of minor gods or goddesses, and some gods and goddesses who get treated like minor gods and goddesses.**

 **So far I have two distinct characters and their parentage (Hypnos and Demeter) But I"m open for suggestions of parentage as well as suggestions for, well, legitimately everything else.**

 **Note: This is a story about demigods and what they do. I'm not going to contain any Romance because I don't feel like it. Thank.**

* * *

Chapter 1- Punk Rock Lullaby

It's safer here.

I know what goes on out there.

Forget Ancient gods and devastating, virtually unkillable monsters. I know what goes on out _there_.

I have a gift.

I don't need make up, there are _always_ dark circles under my eyes. It's a gift. It completes the look. The I don't look like my brothers and sister look. There aren't many of us but I'm the different one. Don't get me wrong, I'm the same as them, I sleep my life away because it's safer. But I'm not ignorant. And if you do see me out of my little safe space then you can tell I'm making a statement.

Not that a statement is important if you only come out of your "room" about once a week.

Posing the important question, who needs food?

I need few things in life, and they are in this order:

Happiness (just kidding scratch that ), Music, a mattress (I prefer tempur-pedic but we're not that picky), hair dye.

Currently it's purple. I like it right now.

Purple hair, darkened eyes. Statement, right? Whatever I'm trying to say though I'm not completely sure. They say everyone has something to say but my siblings and I aren't often given a chance. Clovis runs this cabin, but he's asleep most of the time. We all are, technically, but he's the smartest of the sleepers. He knows things. About destiny and dreams. Am I envious?

Of course I am.

I dream all the time to the soundtrack of whatever's in my life at the moment and I can't make a lick of sense of anything. All I know is that if I play my music and close my eyes then I can get a good sense of the world outside camp and exactly what I'm safe from, hiding here.

I construct a canopy with a blanket and hide in my own little world that's the length and width of a twin bed but is so much. Earbuds keep me connected to something I otherwise couldn't be connected to. There isn't a place for me outside of this little world. No one cares about me outside of this little world.

So if my deepest connection is with an iPod and a stuffed Narwhal named Horace, then so be it. Maybe it's best that way.

Maybe I'm just crazy, antisocial. Trying to be cool, to be punk, without leaving the Hypnos cabin.

In the mirror I'm slick and smooth.

In the mirror I have personality.

In my dreams I'm actually a person.

I see and understand hurt.

I can help people.

Then I wake up and the blanket separating me from the people who would be my family if they were conscious has fallen down. I rush to rebuild my fortress and forget about ever wanting to be anyone's hero. I ignore this need to set something, anything right. I fail again and fall back into a drifting sleep, music and slumber flowing through my veins.

I'm not different.

I'm just as stupid as the rest of the world. Stupid and selfish. Wasting my life dreaming without a hint of what those dreams mean, and with not enough dignity to ask someone who might know.

I stare at the bunk above me and pretend that my purple hair and the bags under my eyes make me relatable. And that if I ever left solitude, I'd have friends. But that's just a dream.

It's safer in here. I'm not going to risk anything by leaving.

Not because I don't want to. Just because I'm so so tired. And I like being safe and secure. Even though I make myself look like the kind of guy who would like the exact opposite.

I look like the kind of guy who would wander through music stores in the bad part of town to find that exact, specific record, instead of making my purchases on iTunes under the safe and protected covers of my comforter.

I'm a hypocrite.

I'll keep being a hypocrite too, until I drag my sorry behind out of this cabin and face everything I'm hiding from and everything I pretend to be.

Face everything I pretend to understand.

* * *

 **So that was Douglas, son of Hypnos...**

 **Thoughts?**

 **I don't know...**


	2. Weeds

**This will be my first real OC story in awhile for Camp Half Blood, which used to be really my main thing with stories like Summer with Dad and Cabin 11... This will focus on some of the children of minor gods or goddesses, and some gods and goddesses who get treated like minor gods and goddesses.**

 **So far I have two distinct characters and their parentage (Hypnos and Demeter) But I'm open for suggestions of parentage as well as suggestions for, well, legitimately everything else.**

 **Note: This is a story about demigods and what they do. I'm not going to contain any Romance because I don't feel like it. Thank.**

* * *

Chapter 2- Weeds

No one talks to me. Afraid of a lecture I guess. Because I'm apparently the type of guy who gets emotional over grass being stepped on just because I don't eat animal flesh and protested ONE deforestation project. It's my dad's fault. You would think I'd blame my mother, because she's the one who seems to get emotional when grass is stepped on, but I don't. It's not her fault. It's my dad's. I mean, he raised me, right? Right. He's the one who instilled the whole tree hugging vibe that people seem to hate about me. Because I'm not just a hippie, I'm a hippie that could have a PhD in botany right now based on how many stinking botany classes I've sat in on because of my dad. Plants are his thing. Maybe it started as a light casual interest, but I honestly think he hopes to win Demeter back by showing how devoted he is to plant science. So we protest trees being cut down and learn all about photosynthesis and that turns me into the most boring and most avoided kid at camp.

Huzzah.

It doesn't help, I guess, that I say words like huzzah.

Tree dork. That's the name they have for me.

Even the tree nymphs stopped being my friend because I explained the pigment that makes their leaves change color and apparently that's a boring conversation topic. Good thing I never go to any parties. I'd kill the mood like that.

Or, if they gave me a chance, I could show off.

Prove myself.

Because I have talent that no one's ever going to see due to the aura of boring that lingers around me. No one likes smart hippies.

I guess that's why no one's seen my talent. Because to the other camper's I'm just a smart hippy and to my dad I'm just a reminder of the woman he will never get back. Only I know that I can communicate to plants and make them do my bidding, and when I do, it's stunning. No one else _cares_ about that. They can't see past who they've judged me to be.

I might as well be a dandelion. You know, a weed. Perfectly okay to look at, but with negative connotations surrounding it that just make it a nuisance that few people see the beauty in.

So that's just great.

Nobody waters or nurtures weeds. At least not on purpose. No one invites them to parties, or compares them to roses, but why not? Aren't we nice too? Roses can hurt, and yet are still preferred to the humble dandelion. Dandelions don't hurt. Dandelions don't do anything wrong except grow. That's all I'm doing. Growing, learning, enjoying things. I enjoy learning. I enjoy growing, and making other things grow.

I'm no rose with beauty that tricks you into cutting yourself with thorns I hide underneath. I'm out there for the whole world to see, my personality, my intelligence, my whole life, just a smiling happy dandelion. Except my powers. Those are my roots. I'd show those too if someone just picked me. If someone just chose to pick the weed instead of the thorny rose.

Did you know dandelions are edible? Trust me, I've eaten my fair share. Just fry them up with flour and oil (the tops only, not the stems), and they're pretty good. Look at the dandelion guys. It just wants to be loved, it gives it's all, to make you smile, to look nice, to taste nice, to be whatever you need it to be, and you don't want it. No one wants it. Except me. I choose to grow dandelions.

To be a dandelion.

To wait for someone to notice and be happy because I'm around. To be happy because I'm me, boring botanist, with an awesome power.

No one's noticed yet.

I can wait though.

But dandelions don't last forever.

* * *

 **Okay this guy is Ingram. I'm not putting the names because these guys have so far been loners and I don't want to have these lovely little minor threats randomly go oh yeah I'm Ingram by the way.**

 **I do love this chapter.**

 **And I happen to be a fan of dandelions**


	3. Rainbow Road

**I like this girl. She's alright.**

* * *

Chapter 3- Rainbow Road

"Shouldn't you-" This was how her siblings decided to enter a conversation with her.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I'LL MASSACRE YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE." And that was how her siblings exited a conversation with her. She was not a pleasant rainbow and sunshine kind of girl. She was the well... The massacre your entire family if you interrupt me playing Mario Kart type.

The daughter of Iris, the happy rainbow goddess, was a terror. At least that's what her siblings called her. Most of them hated her. Butch Walker was slightly an exception.

"Don't massacre my family." He said, sitting next to him.

"What do you want?"

"Have you seen sunlight in two days?"

"No."

"Fantastic. I'm making pizza bagels. You need to eat." She grumbled.

"Fine." 2 and a half minutes later he thrust a tray with 9 bagels at her. She ate.

"I'm going to open a window." He warned.

"Uh huh." He opened a window. Sunlight flooded in.

"Ow." She complained.

"You should love this. It's bright and warm and happy."

"I hate that." Butch laughed.

"I know. So, Jennifer. I'm thinking about getting a tattoo."

"Do it. Maybe it'll kill you."

"I'm thinking of getting one on my left shoulder that says, What in the name of all things cinnamon swirl is going on here?"

"Brony."

"And _proud_."

"You have nothing to be proud of. Your face is stupid."

"At least I go outside."

"What's so great about outside? The graphics are better here."

"There is no way Mario Kart can beat ACTUAL OUTSIDE."

"You're wrong."

"i'm not wrong."

"I'm not listening to you. nanananana."

"J-"

"NANANANANANANANANA CAN'T HEAR YOU."

"Okay, you're five."

"Fifteen."

"Then act like it."

"No."

"You will _never_ find a guy."

"Oh no I'm so threatened. I don't like people, numbskull."

"And people don't like you. And they never will little girl, so long as you stay on your butt and waste time playing video games."

"I don't care."

"Yeah, well I do Jennifer. I'm cutting you off."

"Cutting me off? You're not my dad-"

"No, I'm not. Because something happened to him, didn't it-"

"SHUT UP BUTCH I'M SERIOUS. THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE. I NEED YOU TO GO AWAY. SO HELP ME I'LL- I'LL..."

"You'll what?"

Silence. Just a long stream of silence.

"You'll nothing. You won't do anything again, will you...?" Jennifer dropped the controller and hugged herself, and his arms wrapped around her.

"I'm here, I'm here..."

"NO, GO AWAY, YOU DID THIS TO ME..." She screamed.

"I didn't do anything to you."

"You made me hurt again!"

"You mean feel again. You've been not feeling for a long time and you might not know it but that's hurting you."

"Oh go watch My Little Pony I don't need your emotional garbage-"

"I think that's exactly what you need."

"Well you'd just be wrong again. So there. Stupid face."

"Wow, that cuts to the bone." He replied sarcastically.

"Go away."

"Not until you get up off of your behind and try to face the world."

"No."

"Jen."

"Don't call me Jen!" She screeched like a pterodactyl.

"Okay, okay, fine. Don't you care that this is killing you?"

"The only thing getting killed is you if you don't leave me alone." She growled.

"Jennifer..." He paused, looking at her, looking at her glaring rainbow eyes.

"I don't need you, I don't need your help."

"It was your birthday recently, wasn't it?" Silence.

"Yeah, you might not know it, but your birthday is circled in green on the calendar."

"Why green?"

"It's random. All our siblings birthdays are circled on that calendar. Wanna know a secret?"

"No." He cracked a smile.

"I'm telling you anyway. I haven't failed to get anyone in this cabin a present. Ever."

"Wow I'm so impressed now go away."

"I haven't given you yours yet."

"I'd just exchange it for money, don't bother."

"You can't exchange this one."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," He paused,

"You want your present?"

"No..."

"Yeah you do."

"Fine, gimme my present." Butch smiled warmly, winked, and picked her up, carrying her out of the cabin.

"Today is your present. A chance, a real chance, to live. Look at that. Sunshine. Happiness. Laughter. You've been hiding behind fear and video games for so long..." She looked around, her eyes wide. She almost smiled. Then, remembering herself, she muttered.

"The graphics out her suck." And she punched him in the shoulder.


End file.
